The Goth Epidemic
by thebawsypenguin
Summary: The Fad which began the swarm of Conformist Barbies are here to stay. Wendy is forbidden to be with Stan and is ditched for the perfect 'Ken'. He evolves back into Raven, joins the Goth Kids once again, and begins the wave which leads to the Goth Epidemic. The Goth population is rising, ceasing to stop, who dares to stop it now? and will they succeed? Rating may change into a 'M'.
1. The Perfect Barbie needs their 'Ken'

**A/N: The last and first South Park fan fiction I have ever done was more of a drabble and had a terrible plot. I decided to use the ****_'some what okay' _****pieces from the drabble and put it into this. I might later make a separate story for the background of the 'Barbies' fad and that'd be a one shot.**

**So, technically, this is my first one, ever.**

**Enough about that..**

* * *

The Barbies were sitting in their assigned desks inside the confidential room, a room where only girls, well now limited to the 'single-faced' popular girls, were aloud in for their meetings. This hide out was much like the room for the guys, the home of were the craziest shenanigans had begun, otherwise known as Cartman's basement. Except with walls coated in a miraculous amount of pastel lilac, and a thick, 20cm long, purple stripe painted on top of it, placed 3cm below the ceiling's corners.

"Yes, Wendy, you're going to have to break up with Stan as he's _not_ the **Ken** to _your_ **Barbie**," Bebe ordered, her aquamarine eyes piercing themselves through Wendy's skull.

"Mhmm, Bebe's right, you guys have been on and off since 3rd grade, it's only _logical_ to end it now before it's too late," Red added, Heidi and Annie nodded along side with her, applying their bubblegum flavoured lip gloss to their very own thin and brutally abused lips.

Wendy sat there, in the centre of all this bashing and a glistening drop of liquid ran down her foundation caked face, ruining her smoky copper eye shadow in the process.

She was beginning to get sick and tired of posing as if she really wanted to become a Barbie. She truly missed the days she could express her opinions without getting frowned upon for being a _'pussy'._

Cheerleading was her only way of getting socially accepted in this degrading, disappointing town called South Park.

Of course, this led to a path which she didn't necessarily want to go through. Working in Raisins was incredibly emotionally dampening, a hoard of girls flirting immensely with horny, male adolescents for what cause exactly? Money, that's what.

"Wendy, don't cry or your mascara is going to run!" Nichole whispered loudly in her ear, as she tried to suppress the anger in her voice; she was forced to spend majority of her weekly pay to buy her _'friends' _some identical make up to complete their plastic appearance.

"Sorry," as the back of her hand dabbed the tears dry, cautiously so there is no more damage to the already melted make up.

"It's okay," Nichole sympathized as she took out her pack of Kleenex tissues which was laid right in the bottom of her expensive fuchsia, leather bag, among the rest of her unnecessary abundance of female products, "Here, use this."

Forcing a petite smile, Wendy took 3 tissues from the pack and continued dabbing the tears away and drawing her eyes towards her outfit which consisted of a turquoise tank top, cream daisy dukes and silver sandals embedded with silver rhinestones.

The climate in South Park has been increasingly heating up, probably due to global warming. It felt as if they were in Spain or maybe Egypt, no one wore their usual set of clothing anymore. This unfortunately gave the _'Barbies'_ an excuse to their over-protective parents to wear something skimpy.

Once Wendy's tears stopped descending from her tear ducts, she coughed to clear her dry throat, drinking some water which was passed to her by Nichole to help moisten it further.

"I think," Wendy decided, trying to fight back another avalanche of tears, "I'll dump S-Stan."

The atmosphere in the room silenced until Bebe began clapping, "Well done, Wendy."

Suddenly a wave of claps eroded the room's awkward tension and everyone began cheering for Wendy.

A genuine smile came across Wendy's face, maybe this was the right thing to do.

**_ 8:45pm inside Wendy's Bedroom_**

"What's wrong, Wendy?"

Bebe suggested to Wendy that she should break up with Stan alone and the only place which was not swarmed with teenagers was her own house. Seeing Bebe was inviting Clyde over for some time alone and she couldn't possibly do it through text as that defeats morality, her house was the only suitable option.

"Uh, Stan, sit down here."

Wendy patted the space next to her with her left hand, nails painted with bright blue, matching her plain t-shirt, navy leggings and the nails of her bare feet.

"We need to talk."

Not even snow could compare to the sudden paleness of Stan's face, guilt and regret became the only known feelings to Wendy right now but she had to carry on. _'The girls will be proud, __**Bebe**__ will be proud.'_

"It's being going on too... Stan please, don't make this harder for me than it already is."

"FUCK YOU, WENDY!"

From sadness to veins popping outside the tan curtains of skin, eyebrows furrowed and hands clenched into fists, ready to fight and defend the owner of it.

"Stan..."

And with that, Stan sighed. His previous expression faded and he gave her a twisted, sympathetic look.

"Wendy, it's okay, I know this is one of your little bitchy games," he chided, resting his arms to his side and smiling like a mental patient, head cocked to hover above his right shoulder-blade, "Tomorrow you're going to come back to me again, and everything will be perfect."

Only then did Wendy realise that Stan had not moved an inch since he entered the room, he stood perfectly in the centre of her rug that rested beside her bed. Guilt and regret left her solemn body and fear arose.

"Stan, I'm tired of this relationship. We keep breaking up and going back together only to repeat the previous actions, it's not healthy."

It felt like hours has passed until what Wendy just said sunk in to not only Stan but Wendy herself.

She felt tired of this relationship? Well that was understandable. Who would want to stay in an unstable relationship with someone who is _boring?_

Stan was a typical American guy. He loved football; he even did well in it, being a quarterback and all. A jock, that's what he was.

Sure, he was animal loving, even going to the extreme and hoarding cattle to keep them safe. Sticking to a vegetarian diet and unfortunately turning into a _'pussy', _contracting vagina-itis in the process, just like she was.

He was never interesting and he was never genuinely interested into the things she seriously was. _The_ Stan Marsh was pretending to be interested in politics was flattering to Wendy but low, even for a him.

They were the golden couple, shining vividly in the sunlight called popularity like authentic diamonds, but dying inside, together. All personal interests in life had now shriveled away, only putting a positive plastic face for the sake of others. They were the plastic couple, like Barbie and Ken.

**Plastic, fake and unhappy.**

How can you go on in life without being happy? You can't, that's the answer.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to finally break the chain, Stan, it's all for the best."

Stan finally changed his focus from Wendy's face to Wendy's cocoa bean pupils and kept it there, never moving, just staring.

"I'm sorry for being with you, Wendy, I'm sorry for ever_ loving _you," he seethed through his grated teeth, eyes still never leaving Wendy's as he backed away towards her door.

Wendy stared back until Stan turned his torso to open the door, moving his focus towards the doorknob, and exited the room with a long _bang._

_'What have I done?'_

* * *

**A/N: There you go,**

**I honestly really hope that was better than the other one, this one has a much more interesting plot and a few twists not even I think the characters would go through, but that's later.**


	2. Evolving into Raven ( 1 )

"Hello, welcome to..."

Stan strode through the store, attempting to find the same clothes he wore for his Raven persona. Not paying attention to any of the staff willing to help him find what he was looking for.

"Where's that Nevermore t-shirt, stupid conformist clothes," he muttered to himself, attracting a person of staff to him.

"Did you say you're looking for a Nevermore t-shirt?" asked a guy not a couple of years older than himself. His long curly hair which framed his square face was dyed black, his facial features were soft and his waterline was coated in thick, black mascara. His contacts were a vicious red, similar to Damien's ones when his ice cold blood began to boil furiously, and his skin was pale and speckled with freckles everywhere. Almost like Kyle.

You could tell his diet only consisted of drinking coffee and occasionally eating some filling food. His body frame was short, skinny and feeble, a single touch could break all his bones at once. You could tell he was embarrassed by this as he wore 3 visible layers of plain red jumpers, pure black jeans and well fitted Dr. Martens, obviously black.

Stan straightened his height as he stood 3 extra inches to the already towering 6 to the guy.

"Yes."

Anger was all he could feel, you could hear it in his voice, watch it develop in his face and taste it in his aura.

"Oh, well we don't sell those anymore," he said with a patronizing tone in his voice as he played with his name tag, navy with the name Jared written in white capitals.

Jared.

"Well, _Jared_, what else do you have which _isn't _conformist," Stan asked, earning a chuckle from Jared, "What's so funny, _Cullen_ _fag?_"

With his eyebrows both cocked upwards at the _'original' _insult, he replied with the same tone as before, "You're Raven, right?"

Time was frozen.

Confusion, confusion and anger, how did he know Stan? How did he know who Raven was? He has never met him.

"H-how do... how do you know me?" Stan questioned, body still paralyzed from shock. No one apart from his friends knew about Raven, it was something he kept to himself and to the people who he trusted. The Goths, they understand his views on life, why he thought it sucked and why he saw things as they were.

"You were here last time you were depressed, your dog died when you were in 8th grade, right?"

Stan began to get annoyed at his soft tone. Sparky died and he still sounds like I just pulled a _'Cartman Tantrum'_.

"Yes, when I was in _9th_ **grade**, and stop patronizing me, I just want to buy these clothes and get the fuck out of this shop full of... _conformists,_" cringing at the last word as he saw a herd of vampire kids enter the store.

Jared followed Stan's eye of sight and cringed, too, "Yeah, they come here all the time, with their _ketchup juice._"

Stan turned his head back to rows of t-shirts of bands whilst contemplating on the fact that Jared was more likely to be a Goth than a Vampire whore and the fact that the bands on these t-shirts suck ass.

"Sorry, follow me," already heading towards the t-shirts manufactured by the people who support heavy metal bands, "Here's some band t-shirts you might like."

Stan reluctantly obeyed, apparently his whole body wasn't paralyzed anymore, and took his exact steps and began to glance at the rows of t-shirts.

"They're all crap," his eyes never leaving the stack of rubbish in front of him.

"Yeah, but I figured you liked shit like that."

A glare was all it took for Jared to apologize.

"Sorry, look here, just buy a plain black t-shirt and," his sentence trailed off unfinished as he searched for a specific something.

It took about 4 minutes until he found it, it was hard to find clothes and jewellery as they were all the same colours, deadly scarlet, hypnotizing black, steam punk bronze and blazing silver.

"Here, a plain necklace for such a plain person!" he shouted with glee from the other side of the store including the counter. He threw the chain necklace, silver of course, to Stan and he caught it like the jock he was.

_'It's a chain necklace,' _he thought.

_'__**chain...**__'_

Wendy's words echoed in his head again, causing his heart to ache once again.

_"I'm sorry it took_ _me so long to finally break the __**chain**__, Stan, it's all for the best."_

"I can't buy this one, too... too many bad memories. Here, take it back!" he said as he tossed back the necklace, making it land on the edge of the counter perfectly.

He went down to where the jewellery was, where Jared was, and picked a bronze necklace with a pendant. He opened inside to see what was inside and he saw a picture of a bird, a black bird, which looked a lot like a raven.

"That, that suits you."

"Mhmm..."

Glancing one look at Jared and back to the pendant he decided that he'd purchase it.

He began to wrap it around his wrist and picked up the black t-shirt Jared was still holding in his left hand right beside his own right one, nodding his head to thank Jared who nodded back in return, Stan went to pick a pair of coal-black skinny jeans which were ripped at the left thigh, both knees and shins and place it around his left forearm.

Heading back to the counter, he took out his leather grey wallet whilst he prepared to pay for the clothes.

"I'll take that," and with a swift, graceful move, Jared calculated the cost of Stan's purchase, "That'll be $28.99, _Raven_."

Stan finally chuckled, a sign of ease on his face, as he took out 30 dollars from his wallet, "Hey, you know what, keep the change, dude."

"Thanks," Jared smirked as he put Stan's purchase in a plain, black plastic bag.

**EVOLVING FROM STAN MARSH INTO RAVEN: 29% COMPLETE**


	3. Raven meets Onyx

**Stan's POV**

**06:42 – Monday**

I was just staring outside my wrecked window, whilst laying down in my pajamas under these bed sheets, taking in the delicious darkness that the Earth can bring us. The sky is sprayed with various tones of grey, the velvet clouds are pearl, the sun is nowhere to be seen.

It's like staring inside my soul, dude.

And this town is my heart, broken and raped by Nazi conformists such as... Cartman and... One-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

To think about it, my whole room is full of absolute shit. Gifts given to me on several Valentine's Days the years before by that specific _one_, like that brand new amber alarm clock placed in the top right corner of my bedside table with a small football placed above it.

That has to go to the bin, for sure.

That and this 20x20 photo of me and '_unnameable',_ when our team won the League, directly in front of me, right on my dresser.

I miss that... _Wendy._

She was care-free, her same old intelligent self. She didn't ever use to fall for these fads, whatever did happen to the girl that I like? I have no idea.

Her mane wasn't dyed golden blonde like now, straightened like it was now, **fake **like it was now.

It was usually let out wildly, the same as her true personality, tucked under that purple beret of hers or in a messy bun like in that photo directly... in front... of me.

Most of all, she was happy, right? She was happy with me. We were genuine.

I can't even stare at this anymore, I'm not going to cry like a pussy. Nor am I going to flood my eyes with _emo fag _tears.

I'm Raven and like hell do I feel sick.

**OOO**

An overwhelming feeling erupts from Stan's stomach, rushing through his esophagus, to the roof of his mouth.

He knows what this is, he's felt it many times before, when he was binge drinking from depression and especially during intimate moments with him and Wendy, herself.

He unlocks his navy blue door, currently covered in posters of stereotypical 'Gothic' bands, by its rusty, gold knob and runs towards the door beside his bedroom, the door for the bathroom.

His parents deliberately changed Stan's bedroom to the unoccupied room beside the bathroom due to his bad gag reflex. Shelley was sure she was having hardcore homicidal thoughts about Stan the 11th time that week when her welcome rug was soaked in the vomit owned by _Stan Marsh._

**Stan's POV**

The light is off, but I don't care, I know this room by heart. I tend to come in here to release this shit when its pitch black anyway. Depression usually takes its toll around midnight, when my mind is working too hard, thinking about how honestly bad my life is.

_Orrbggargmmm_

That's a 1/3 of it gone.

Wait for it...

Orrfffbgggarggmmm

That's another 1/3 of it gone.

And finally...

**OOO**

A few minutes pass before Stan's final eruption including the mix of badly digested food, thoughts and emotions come outside his mouth.

He turns on the light right beside the door and rips some perfumed tissues, which were placed on the floor, and wipes the excess vomit on the corners of his lips.

He puts in the laundry bin beside the door, in the corner, and his attention is drawn to the mirror.

**Stan's POV**

Hmm...

I check the time on the clock above the mirror, it's **7:00**. The school bus will arrive in 10 minutes...

Urgh, well the school bus is for conformists.

I pick up Shelley's cheap drugstore eyeliner from the top drawer and carefully try to paint it on my waterline, just like Jared had yesterday in the store.

_'Slowly, Raven, make sure it's perfe-'_

"ARGH, SHIT!"

I accidently jabbed it inside my eye.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Argh, now my eye is _literally _red.

Grab the towel, grab **_any_** towel.

That one is pink...

Argh, whatever!

"Stanley, is everything alright?"

Oh god, my Mum.

"Yes~ everything is fine," I squeak.

I begin jump around as the pain becomes worse, accidentally hitting plastic vases full of a wide assortment of flowers and making them fall unto the floor.

"Are you sure, I'm coming in there, okay?"

No, you're not.

I rush towards the door and my body bangs against it, my muscles making sure she does not enter. It's a good thing I'm still holding the eyeliner in my left hand and I have a weirdly great view of the mirror here. Yet again, this bathroom is tiny as fuck.

"Stanley, open the door."

I don't move, instead I tense my muscles and hope for the best that Shelley doesn't wake up and open the door. How on earth did she learn to grow her guns to become _that _strong? I have _no idea._

"Stanley Marsh, I order you to open the door."

I let go, when you hear your full name you know shit is going down.

I hide the eyeliner by putting it in my left pocket and let her in.

I don't know when this happened but suddenly my breathing is slower and deeper, but I decide to keep my focus on my Mum looking around the room for the source of the noise.

She turns her attention to me and her facial expression turns from a scowl into just plain confused, "Well, Stanley, come downstairs when you're ready for breakfast. I've made pancakes, okay?"

I nod and open the door wider to allow her to go outside.

When she does leave, I lock the door and go back to the mirror. In the matter of... 7 minutes, my eyes have gone back to pure white.

'_Right, okay. Just don't do the same mistake again.'_

After around 4 minutes I successfully applied the eyeliner and headed back to my room.

My dresser is completely disorganized apart from the section which I like to call, **'Raven'**.

I glance at my mirror to see my hair is shaggy and slightly longer than usual, a bit like Tucker's.

Like hell do I want to look like Craig fuckin' Tucker.

That hair straightener, where is it?

_"It's got to be here somewhere." _I mutter to my self as my hands look through my dresser's drawers.

"Stanley, hurry or you'll be late to school!"

I wouldn't usually go to school on melancholic days like this but I need to talk to Henrietta.

_"You know what, fuck my hair."_

_**OOO**_

Stan takes out his clothes from his caramel dresser and throws it forcefully unto the bed.

He quickly takes off his Terrance and Philip pajamas, the left pocket still holding Shelley's half empty eyeliner, and leaves it on the floor.

The plain black t-shirt going on his body first, he squeezes himself in the ripped jeans he had randomly chose the day before, picks up two unworn socks, one orange and one yellow, and puts on his black converses without tying the laces.

As he exits the room, he picks up his usual hat but of the colour of grey, the bobble being black, leather _black _jacket and his pendant.

When he enters the kitchen, all of his clothes worn and his jacket left unzipped, Sharon turns around, ready to smile at her son.

She sighs, "Stanley..."

Stan ignores her, the coffee machine already making him a cappuccino, as he takes out his transparent thermos from the cupboard above it.

_Bing!_

"Stan..."

He ignores her once again as he pours his cappuccino into his thermos, before placing it into his bag. and leaves the room, into the hallway, ready on his way to school.

**7:32 at South Park High**

"Where's Stan?" Kyle asked Kenny in the school's hallway.

They were both dressed in typical holiday wear as the sun's beam began to illuminate South Park harder, heating it furiously.

Kenny, being just as confused as Kyle was, took out the jade watch Kyle had given him for his birthday out of his rainbow flower printed beach short pockets and showed it to his now Super Best Friend.

During their time in High School, Stan had been increasingly hanging out more with his football buddies and the popular girls, specifically Wendy, Bebe and Red.

In the beginning Kyle was incredibly offended and tried his best to get Stan back, even pleading him to spend some quality time with his friend. Despite the fact Stan occasionally did do just that, Kenny had stayed with Kyle all this time, hidden under the pain Kyle was under, only to shine near the end.

They were at Stark's Pond when they both decided to give each other the title of 'Super Best Friends', forgetting about Stan's place completely.

The two become inseparable recently but regardless of how it may seem...

_Kyle still cared._

As he turned his head to the watch, his shoulder long auburn locks swishing to his right side freely without that pear and lime colored ushanka of his, reading the time as 7:34.

"He's not usually this late," his said as emerald eyes widened, expressing how alarmed he was at Stan's late arrival.

"Uhuh, he's probably banging Wendy, or Bebe. Gotta say, Bebe's a good lay," Kenny added as a smirk grew on his face.

Disgusted by this, Kyle pinched Kenny by his shoulder-blade, just beside the hem of his orange muscle shirt.

The blond, although shorter by 2 inches, was the smarter one referring to the arts of immaturity and reached under his friend's striped green and white shirt, to his matching grey beach shorts and boxers and gave him the wedgie of the _century. _No exaggerations.

"Kenny, let go!" he screamed as the hands lingering on his boxers ceased to go away, "I said, let go!"

And with a thump, Kenny did, accidentally making Kyle fall unto the ground.

"Shit, Kenny."

But the McCormick wasn't even listening by then, he wasn't even sorry, he was just shocked.

"Kenny?"

**Stan's POV**

I entered the school, like one usually would, to hear the rambling gossip, laughing and bro's horse-fighting die down into just whispers emerging from the same still bodies.

Sure, I haven't been Raven for a while, but you'd think they'd get used to me getting depressed and shit. But then, none of them having gotten use to the catastrophes that South Park suffers from everyday.

Conformists can be so oblivious.

I stride through the rows of teenagers who have separated themselves, making me almost feel like Moses in the Red Sea. I take my time, it's not like I'm going to class anyway.

I dare to look at the eyes of one of the people in the row and I see that they were not looking at me at all.

Actually, none of them are looking at me.

"Wendy?" I hear one of the 10th graders I have never seen say.

_'What?'_

I twist my head behind me to see the unmistakable.

Wendy... is a Goth?

This is the second time this has happened, paralyzed on the spot. It doesn't help that she is glaring at me as if she has been aching to murder me, that's probably the case.

I feel sick, the rush is back again. My head being the only body part which can move right now, I search for the boy's toilet.

No where to be seen.

"Hello, Stan, I'm trying to go somewhere," her voice has lost all their soft layers of kindness and cheerfulness, its monotone.

I continue to stand there, no movement being made, looking at Wendy with confusion, head cocked to the right hovering my shoulder-blade, yet again.

She's a noirette again, instead its a short, straight bob which frames her face accompanied with a full fringe. I suppose it unusually fits her nicely, with her Persian indigo lace top over her black ves, topped with a biker jacket which are rolled up at the sleeves. Although she's a Goth, she still has dignity.

Jeans, similar to mine, except not ripped at all, and thick, leather winter boots. The naked part of her arm is wrapped in what I believe are genuine tattoos of burgundy dragons and spiky bracelets, similar to the necklace suffocating her neck.

"Stan."

I move aside, all vomit has descended back to its original place, and allow her to go before me.

_'What the fuck?'_

**OOO**

Stan stood there, everyone was quiet, until Clyde broke the silence.

"Black is really slimming, huh?"

"Clyde..." Craig whined, not wanting to hear about Clyde's dieting issues. It would be abnormal to eat that many tacos and _not _get fat. Including the fact that Clyde is a footballer and is only slightly chubby, but that doesn't stop him invading the beautiful peace South Park High rarely has by talking.

"No, Craig, hear me out. If I became Goth..."

"You're not becoming Goth."

"Craig, I thought you liked fads like this. Remember Metrosexual week and... ha, remember that week when we all dressed like big-headed chavs from the hood?" Token laughed, no matter what Token did he still managed to appear like a gentleman.

"Yes, and I looked amazing in my Adidas trainers and Beats," Kenny tried to stifle a laugh from the opposite side of the hall, he was a good friend of Craig, excluding the fact that he was a dealer.

They understood each other; most people wouldn't understand, they didn't expect them to, "Shut up, McCormick. Token, Clyde, we are not turning Goth."

"But... Craig!" Clyde cried, forcing tears to run down his cheeks, bypassing his dimples, to his Letterman jacket that are only worn by jocks.

"Just say yes, Craig."

"Alright, Token, but I swear only for one day..." the chullo wearing boy whispered to his friends, by now the whole school were rambling again about whatever, Tweek had left before the incident to go refill his thermos and has come back to see a cheering Clyde.

"W-what GAH! Hap-p-pened, C-Craig," Tweek attempted to say as he shook violently, he decided to sip some coffee which were sitting inside his thermos and it instantly relaxed his over-driven nerves.

"I don't know, I just don't know."

* * *

**EVOLVING FROM STAN MARSH TO RAVEN: 35% COMPLETE**

**EVOLVING FROM WENDY TESTABURGER TO ONYX: 35% COMPLETE**

* * *

**A/N: Bear with me guys, it will take a couple of chapters until the actual drama, hurt and suspense comes in. **

**These first few chapters are filler chapters, like all of them ****_will _****be but these ones specifically explain the background of the story as if it wasn't the real background... of the... story.**

* * *

_-The next chapter will be highly based on the story of Wendy's, aka. Onyx, transformation into a Goth, Kyle's reaction and slowly the beginning of the actual story._


End file.
